Joyce leaned out over the rail into the wind, drinking it in. It was
like flying, she was flying. She closed her eyes and felt the air rushing
past, as they dashed headlong into darkness. Opened her eyes to look
past the sails to the stars, pinpoint brilliants against a black, black
sky. So many stars. How long had it been since she'd been away from
city lights and ordinary concerns and looked up at eternity?

The waning moon stood high in the black sky, a few tattered clouds
scattering its light. The soft crash of the hull against the water,
the creak and whoosh of the sails were the only sounds. They were alone
on the moonlit sea, with the faint lights on the distant shore the only
evidence that they were not the only people in the world. Angel, intent,
and silent, was concentrated totally on the task of making the boat
do his will. She was his passenger, sent to sit at the front of the
boat while he plied sails, rope, and rudder to send the boat skimming
over the waves.

She felt like a new woman, a distant relative of that sad, lonely person
who had been crying alone in her bed a few nights ago. A young woman,
responsibility-free with an ardent young lover. Angel was the best fuck
she'd ever had, hands down. No surprise really, God knew he'd had enough
time to practice. He fucked like he sailed, with total concentration
and it was wonderfully intense; Joyce suspected she had to be closing
in on the Guinness world record for the most orgasms in a 48 hour period.

She loved his body, loved touching him, loved exploring that vast expanse
of creamy white skin, the hard muscled, flat bellied perfection of him.
Though, sometimes, there were things about that gorgeous body that disturbed
her. Times when she noticed the silence in his chest, when the coolness
ceased being pleasant and seemed to invade her, freezing her to the
core. Moments, when he kissed her with velvet soft lips, and she found
herself thinking of teeth; when she looked into those beautiful dark
eyes and wondered who was in there, and what did he really want?

She'd thought about what it would be like to have this, have Angel,
for longer than a few days; to stay with him. But her practicality killed
the thought before it got too far. Even if he wanted her, other than
sex, they really had nothing much in common. They didn't talk much and
when they did, she occasionally felt a certain amiable condescension
from him that made her feel like she was a five year old being indulged
by a favorite uncle. It reminded her that despite surfaces, he was the
older by a couple of centuries (yet another thing that would definitely
interfere with her vacation if she let herself think about it); well
she'd been there, done that, and the older wiser man/younger naive woman
thing held no attraction for her. Six days would be enough, and then
she would go home, back to her real life.

But right now, she was busy flying...

Angel held the rudder steady and watched Joyce, topless, posing like
a figurehead in the prow, her back arched, bare breasts offered to the
night. She laughed out loud as the boat dipped and spray splashed her.
Angel's lips curved, he would never have suspected that Joyce had such
a talent for -- joy. She was like a child, greedy for sensation, throwing
herself into it without reservation now that she'd made the decision
to do it. No shadows of fate stained her enjoyment.

Had Buffy ever been truly happy once she was called? Was she happy
now, free of the chains of prophecy? Would she wait in Iowa for Riley,
or would she move on to find another father for her children?

He shook his head to exorcise Buffy's painful specter. Joyce was here,
with him now. It was her heartbeat he craved the sound of when he held
her in his arms; her voice he wanted to hear say his name; her body
he wanted to feel warming his. He wondered what she would say if he
told her. If he asked her to stay with him.

A sudden gust of wind made the boat jibe unexpectedly, Angel's attention
focused on the sail for a moment, and when he looked back Joyce had
disappeared. Angel felt stark terror as he realized she'd gone over
the side. He scanned the silvery water and spotted her immediately,
a dark shape bobbing far too far away, almost lost in the waves, diminishing
quickly in the boat's wake. He tossed the anchor overboard and dived
into the sea. Panic rose in him as he thought of the eager predators
that haunted the dark undersea; the watching eyes, the hungry shapes
lurking on the bottom. He imagined white teeth gleaming as dark shapes
rose towards helpless prey, and swam faster.

Joyce waited for him, treading water. She wasn't really worried. Falling
overboard had startled her and she'd bitten her tongue when she splashed
down; but she was a good swimmer, the sea was warm, the gentle swell
no problem. She watched him coming towards her, inhumanly fast, cutting
through the waves like an albino dolphin. Or a shark.

When he reached her she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed
him, he tasted saltwater and the electric shock of her blood in his
mouth. She pulled away, laughed, and he felt the heat of her body pulse
through the tepid water, thought of her scent drifting down, luring
the night hunters. She had no idea, he realized as they swam through
the black water, she was totally oblivious to the threat of the abyss,
wide and ravenous beneath them. It seemed a long way back to the boat,
his belly prickling with every stroke until they reached the relative
safety of the boat, a fragile wooden shell suspended between endless
night and the deep sea.

Joyce gasped as Angel boosted her out of the water, throwing her onto
the deck. He followed landing heavily on the deck and pulled her to
him, crushing her fiercely to his chest, wanting to feel her warm and
wet and alive. His hands pulled impatiently at her swimsuit bottom and
she gasped as cold fingers slipped inside her without warning.

"Angel?" Her voice was thin and anxious as he brought his
fingers to his mouth, and tasted her. She trembled in his arms so he
felt the friable bones wrapped inside the delicate flesh pressed against
him. She felt like a ghost in his arms, bound to fade away too soon.
He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, taking her breath into his
silent lungs until she was gasping.

They had so little time. Only a few more days. It wasn't enough.

She looked up at him, open-mouthed, breath coming in quick hard pants,
looking as if she wanted to say something. As if she wanted to ask him
something. He wished she would ask. Yes, he would say.

***

The moon had set, and the wind had died down to a ghostly presence
that flickered teasingly around her hot skin. Becalmed, the little boat
barely moved on the water, its gentle rocking hardly disturbing the
melted ice in the glass she'd left on the deck.

Angel sighed under her, then moved slightly; the new position put her
on the edge of discomfort, the head of his cock prodding at her cervix.
He was a very big boy, she thought as she carefully adjusted herself
until it felt good again (And she would not think about her delicately
built daughter with him, nope, nope, nope). His hands were pleasantly
cool on her hips, steadying her as she resumed her gentle rocking, following
the rhythm of the boat, lost herself in the moment: sky, sea, Angel.
She felt like she could do this forever.

She looked down at Angel, it was hard to make out his face in the darkness,
but she thought he was smiling. She hoped he was happy; she knew she
was. She'd been happier these last few days than she had been for years,
and if that made her Cleopatra, so what? Six days left, and she intended
to enjoy them, to build memories that would keep her warm through winter...probably
more than one.

Angel smiled up at her, taking almost as much pleasure in her obvious
contentment as in the feel of being surrounded by her, the glorious
slip and slide of her moving around him, on him. Joyce began to moan
as her climax approached and began to move more urgently. He reached
up to her beautiful, slightly sagging breasts, tweaking and kneading
them as she pressed them into his hands. Her throat gleamed in the starlight
and he could see the pulse thundering just under the skin. The blood,
always there, a temptation and a delight. Another thing he couldn't
have.

He slipped his fingers down to the junction of their bodies, manipulating
her clit in the way he knew she liked best and she rocked and gasped
and came, clenching him inside her, pulling him with her down into abrupt
ecstasy. She bent down and kissed him, and he held her to him. She lay
down beside him and closed her eyes. He listened to the lulling sound
of her heartbeat, slowing towards sleep. Lay awake looking up at the
indifferent stars, feeling the dark sea through the wood, pressing at
his back, hungry.

"Stay," he said, letting the word out into the air at last;
but she was asleep, and there was no answer.